A Song of Quiet Weeping
by xNo.Life.Queenx
Summary: After escaping her childhood and finding out there is no end to the world's cruelty, Saeunn is recruited into the dark brotherhood and the only salvation from her own mind is a unique friendship with the spectral assassin Lucien LaChance.
1. I Was Born, I Grew Up

A/N: Okay, this has been modified and *hopefully* improved. Thank you guys for reading and your support! I'd love to know what you think about the changes, and what you hope to see in the future. Honest concrit is always appreciated.

Chapter 1: I was born, I grew up

To say that I'm a troubled soul would be too few words and the wrong ones at that. I bet you are wondering how I came to the point where I am now, walking through snow as deep as my thighs with nothing but a worn travel sack and blood on my hands. I will tell you, but not right away. For my story has humble and broken beginnings, and there is no fixing what has never been whole. But, in order for you to understand this particular beginning, I will have to tell you of another, and of the ending that gave way to the path that now lies before me.

I was born in Skyrim, to a proud and noble family of nords. But unlike my siblings, there was always an eerie chill that entered the room before me and lingered after I left. The shadows would hug me as I walked by, contorting to hide my form and then settling back into their proper pattern as I passed. The witless called me cursed, but the educated called me blessed.

The mage's guild thought I had an abundance of magicka, but while I had a talent for the craft my capacities were no higher than the standard. Through trial and tests, they finally found it. My true father was a black mage, one of the darkest there ever was. He was rumored to have been involved with a shadowy guild of assassins, if such a thing existed. It was also said that he was able to turn into smoke, and kill with a glance. Fear began to grow, soon my mother was targeted and stolen from my father while he was out slaying at night.

Now fueled by burning rage, he devastated Skyrim until at last one brave soul stood against him. My mother did not want to hurt my father, for she loved him very much. However, she was a very talented mage and would not let him destroy their life together.

With kind words, she beseeched the cruel man to cease his destruction and madness. She pleaded for him to return to a life he had once sought to build, for she was now with his child. Overcome by grief, brave Gabriel Uriel Valsota wept at my mother's feet. But his damage to the great expanse of Skyrim could not be repaired, this my mother know. So she wept for him, for the loss of the family they had both longed for. As her tears fell, they rendered my father immobile.

Slowly, he began to harden and become crystalline, turning into a statue of the man he once was. With great secrecy and even greater sorrow, my mother alone took him to the darkest depths of Labyrinthain. It was her goal to some day return, to restore the only man brave enough to capture her heart. That day never came.

As a child, I was only looked at with fear and speculation. And later, when my lineage was discovered, with hatred and discrimination. I tried to be a good citizen, mind the laws and listen to the guards, help where help was needed. But that wasn't enough to wipe away the black mark of my birth, something over which I had no control or choice. So I was demoted from daughter of a thane to the town disgrace. My mother was beheaded before my very eyes, the only one who had ever cared. After that I was never the same.

By day I would scrub floors and tolerate the abuse and cruelty handed out like altar wine at a shrine of Talos, by night I would cry and dream of the day I had the strength to venture out from this place. I would look up through the slots of the stall in the local stables that was my home and dream of a place better than that wretched town, where people would smile at me and tell me about their lives, and maybe even ask me about mine! How wonderful it would be to share a meal with passing travelers on the road and listen to their stories of adventure and courage.

How naive and wrong I was.

It was a harsh winter day when I left, so cold nobody had the energy to bother with an urchin such as myself and I was free to spend my time as I pleased. Usually, I would practice magic and read books, but this day was different. I had rounded up what little possessions mattered, a small supply of food, and bound my feet in extra cloth to lend better protection against the elements of the road. With my enchanted battle axe and array of spells, I felt secure in the fact I would be able to defend myself. Everything was all too perfect, not a soul paying heed to my break for freedom. Or perhaps they wanted me to go? It mattered little.

It was only a few hours before I came across the first group of people outside the village, the first time I have met outsiders in my whole existence. They looked a little rough around the edges, but since they didn't know me they must treat me kinder than the villagers. In my excitement and curiosity, I approached, waving a hand in peace.

"Hello fellow Nords. How does the road treat you?" I called out. The two men that had been talking in hushed whispers stopped and exchanged loaded glances.

"It treats us well. What brings you so far out of town on a day like this?" they asked, brows lifted in curiosity.

"Well I'm just a vagabond just like you gentlemen, so I figured I'd make a little headway to the next town before it got dark." I shrugged, hoping it wasn't too obvious I wasn't experienced or weathered. Again, the two men exchanged loaded glances before standing up and approaching me.

"Well Miss, it's pretty obvious you aren't of the vagrant variety so we'll take it easy on you this time." The first man said. The other swung around to my opposite side and snatched the sack off my shoulder.

"So let me tell you how this sort of thing goes. You let us take what we want, and we might let you live. Resist us, and…" he chuckled darkly for a second, "And even worse things will happen to you. Understand."

"No. NO! I won't let you just take my belongings like that!" I shouted, moving to snatch my pack back from them. The one that had just spoken rolled his eyes and pulled out a knife.

"Since you're new to this, I'll make an exception." He grabbed my upper arm and made a deep gash with his knife. I struggled free and summoned a fire spell to defend myself but it was too late, the blue sky had started to fade to gray and an overwhelming blackness drove all other thoughts from my mind.

When I woke up again it was dark, and the men had left my sack in the middle of the road where people had picked through it as the day wore on and only the most worthless trinkets were left. Thank Sheogorath my mother's protective silver and emerald amulet still hung around my neck. I reckoned it was the only thing that kept the poison from completely killing me. But what hurt the most was my heart, and the beginnings of the realization that the rest of Skyrim would be just like the village, cruel and uncaring.

So, with a grim resolve, I decided to trek to the warm and fertile Cyrodiil in hopes of happiness and civility. But, even though I still have hope there will always be the shadow on my heart, the murky knowledge that there is no true happiness for someone like me, someone touched by darkness. No matter how hard I tried to be a good person, to be friendly and kind. I follow all the laws, the rules, and I never hurt any intelligent species intentionally. But people always run and shun when the sun starts to set and the shadows bend to kiss my flesh and feel the chill that always heralds my arrival. And it will always hang there like the snow from the trees, following me even now to the ever approaching border of Cyrodiil, dampening the dull glimmers of hope for something beyond loneliness. I could still be satisfied with misery if only I had company. With a shake of my head I try to tamp down the hope, to spare myself later heartache, and steel myself for the harshness that is yet to come.

But all the steel, and all the iron from a thousand forges could not prepare me for what happened next. It was after sunset and I was strolling close to the edge of the road, content with the smooth touch of the arcing shadows of the pines, tracing patterns across my skin that left spreading warmth that only I could feel. Eventually the sun began to sink just as a small stream came into view, winding beside the path for a few hundred feet before spilling into a small pond that shimmered and distorted the sunset in beautiful rippling patterns. It was the perfect place to stop and rest for the night, and it looked like there were no signs of habitation so that meant no more bandits to fear. With a small smile, I set about making a small camp.

"Hoy! Miss, what are you doing? The inn's just a mile up the way." A man called from the road, startling me and causing the potion I had been holding to go tumbling to the earth. He was standing in the full light of the moon, and appeared to be quite weathered. Mild shock crossed my mind, as I had never thought a man of his age would be able to travel the road, but I had also never been outside my small and humble settlement that lacked a place on even the most detailed map.

"Thank you, Sir, truly! You saved me a frosty night in the wilds!" I called back, picking up my sack and approaching him. As I got closer a stunning thing happened, the man's old and weathered features seemed to dissipate and he took on the form of a handsome young nord, with hair so light it could be mistaken for snow and a proud jaw complimented by a strong and regal nose.

"A master of Illusion I see." I chuckled, waving a hand in front of my face and transforming my appearance into that of a young boy, much shorter than my actual height at that. This caused the man to return my laugh, casting a dispel charm with little shown effort.

"And you as well." His smile was free and easy, and it took no effort to fall prey to his charms. However, after the earlier incident I was more aware than I might have been and kept a distance, trying to remain skeptical of every move he made and looking for intentions he might be trying to hide. From what I had overheard from other women in my village, men were even more deceptive than Sheogorath on his most mischievous day. Realizing that I missed the mad god, a note was made to collect some yarn, cabbage and cheese.

"Thank you for informing me of the Inn. I was afraid to look further, fearing that there would be no better place." I gave him a shy smile, and made to part ways.

"Would you mind if I accompanied you to the inn? I had intended to stay the night there myself." He spoke before I could completely turn away.

"Of course not. My name is Saeunn, by the way." I said, turning to hide my blush while falling into step with his long strides.

"I am Halldor." He said, then we lapsed into silence. When we finally made it to the in, I gave him a nod and made my way to the innkeeper, who greeted me with a smile.

"Good evening miss, what will it be for you today? We've got rooms, food, and mead!" she was a dark elf with unusually light skin and shocking blue eyes, indicating she was a mix of two or more of the races. Very striking, which made me feel a little plain in comparison. Still, I held no prejudices like some of my nord brethren and returned her smile with as much warmth and kindness as possible.

"How much for a quiet room towards the back of the house?" I inquired. She tapped her chin for a moment before producing a key and twirling it in her fingers.

"Private quarters will be twenty gold per night. Does that sound fair?" She asked in an upbeat tone, her good mood spilling over and causing a grin to spread across my face.

"More than, thanks!" I replied, exchanging the gold for the key. Thank goodness I had found that dead body after those bandits took all of my belongings, otherwise I would still be sitting with by back to the wind!

"That will be the last door to the left, and there should be some fresh fruit and sweet rolls already there. A hot meal will be up shortly." She replied smoothly, tucking the gold into a pouch at her waist.

"Thank you." I said earnestly before heading back to a shockingly large room. The bed was made from fresh hay and bound well, covered in soft furs form a multitude of animals. It was heaven, and then some.

"Wow…." I breathed, running my hand across a wolf pelt. It was better than I could have hoped for, and was well worth spending all my gold. I sat down for a minute but had to stand back up again, covering my mouth to suppress a squeal of delight. Compared to the loose heap of straw in my stall at the village, it seemed to good to be true. _And it's all mine. _I thought, happiness bubbling up and rolling out of my mouth in the form of laughter.

With a huge smile I flopped back into the bed and sighed dreamily. _The first of many wonders and, in time, this will be the standard._ I promised myself. Life was already looking up, and there is no other direction to go but further towards the stars. A knock on the door signaled dinner and as I hopped up from the bed I caught a glimpse of the splendor of the full moon. _Someday soon I will be resting my head beside yours._ I silently promised, opening the door and accepting the hot soup and fresh baked bread. _Someday very soon._

How wrong I was.


	2. Crimson Imperfection

Chapter 2: Crimson imperfection

Snow falls in twirling patterns, like dancers in fierce competition, or lovers in the heat of passion. It is quiet except for the howling wind and the soft murmur of the furs and pines whispering a desolate and lonely song. Everything in front of me is so fresh, so pure. The snow serene and unblemished, virgin white and harsh with the light of the setting sun. My feet fall through the thin upper coating of ice and where I step there is the faint tinge of red, an echo of the violent crimson that lay behind me.

It's not my blood. Everything is calm, and undisturbed, like nothing ever happened or will happen, as if any event will pass into nothingness like a stray thought. Forgotten, and happily so. The night swallows details as I make my way to a stand of trees that will provide adequate shelter for the night. Wrapped in a cocoon of furs, I take look at my surroundings. Everything is black and cold, like a void, and somehow that is comforting. Every move hurts, I am damaged and need to heal. But sleep will not come this night, or the next. For there is no rest for the wicked, and no peace for the damned, and I am both of those and more.

A small rustling sound awoke me from troubled dreams, first starting some distance off and growing closer to the bed where I lay in comfortable repose. Slowly I open my eyes and the first thought that runs through my head is that there is something wrong. There is tension in the air that had not been there before, a silent presence that pervaded the room like a rancid odor.

"Who is there?" I called out, standing up and grabbing the enchanted axe from under my pillow. It would do mild frost damage to my opponent, giving a small advantage and lending some extra strength. Casting a detect life spell, I searched the room for the intruder.

"Good for you." A voice whispered from close by, tenderly mocking. I held out my other hand and renewed the detect life spell, a small pillar of light instantly flaring into existence for my eyes alone.

"Who are you? " I asked, struggling to make out the pinkish features the spell brought to light.

"It seems I chose well." the man drawled,

"Oh yeah? What were your other choices?" I asked, whirling and throwing my dagger in the general direction of my assailant. Bad decision on my part. He moved as silently as mist and was upon me with his frightening countenance, his features skeletal with gaunt yellowed skin. Somewhere beyond the shadowed wells of his eyes two amber points reflected the fragile light of the moon, seeming alive unto themselves. His claw-like hands seized my arms and held me immobile as I struggled, his strong legs unflinching under my steady barrage.

I sucked in a lungful of air and howled as loudly as I could, kicking and thrashing and bashing his head with my own. Pain erupted between my eyes creating a dancing curtain of black spots, clouding my vision as I felt the cold metal of my axe slice into his abdomen. My head swam, confused as to why the man appeared not to notice the wound. My arm felt like a boulder as I struggled to penetrate the expanse of his skin. His organs were strange and shriveled, but I still knew what I was looking for.

My heart swelled with a sense of cold pride as my fingers closed around Halldor's heart. He paused as I slowly withdrew the organ, still overcome by spasms, from his chest. Time stood still as he withdrew, one step then another. I held the heart up for him to see, giving one final shudder to my delight. His throat made an odd wheezing noise as his legs gave out, turning to dust before he could even hit the ground.

The ground...in an instant I was looking at the pile as it lay across the floor from me. I felt my body against the hard wood, relieved at the sounds of an approaching clamor.

"No, I swear I heard the girl scream!" the woman from behind the bar insisted.

"Who cares?" a gruff voice replied.

"She can't be more than twenty two." the woman's voice was now heated. The man let loose an awful guffaw then suddenly fell silent. Large boots passed my face and a pudgy man lifted the clothes strewn on the ground.

"Oh, Miss, it's okay. You're safe now." the woman soothed, delicately rolling me onto my back. Irritation immediately crossed my mind. Later I would come to know well the numbing magicka of the paralysis spell.

Of course I'm safe, I'm the one who killed him. The words could not come from my lips, and it was then that I realized no part of my body would respond. I heard the woman mutter a few words and magicka coursed through my being, warming my body and rejuvenating it. Soon I felt clearheaded, and struggled to sit. The woman had healed me, and I found that I was immensely grateful for her and ashamed at my previous ire.

"Thank you." I rasped, reaching for the nearby wine. The bitter taste was like mother's milk, sweet with the spices of cyrodill.

"It is the staff of the inn that should be thanking you, miss. This vampire has been plaguing us for some time. What's your name?" She asked. I made to reply, but had the foresight not to give her my true name.

"Skuld Harversteen." Oh gods, I can't believe those words had sprung from my lips. But she wanted to believe me, so she did.

"After one of the three. A strong name for a strong woman! I'm Skala." She was too friendly, probably wanted me to fancy a hero's title more than I wanted to complain.

"Thank you for healing me, Skala." I replied, looking through the window to see the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon.

"You're welcome to stay any time, on the house!" She offered. I turned to give her a broad smile.

"Thank you. I'll remember that if and when I travel this way again." I accepted kindly.

"Will you at least stay for another night? We must thank you." She insisted. So they wanted to thank me, this was an interesting prospect though I did not yet know it. Once well down the road, I would realize my need for food and lack of money. Then it wouldn't be long before the inevitable, hours of tedious work constructing a flimsy bow. Crafting enough arrows would take until nightfall, and good luck to myself hunting in the dark.

"Well, how can I refuse?" I replied. Those mysterious eyes of hers looked at me as if they were trying to discern something. I could never forget that expression- as if she caught a glimmer of something interesting but couldn't quite catch it. My heart seemed to cease it's movement as I realized that her magicka was reaching out to me. Operating on instinct, I sent multiple psychic barriers crashing against her magicka. She blinked and looked at me for a second, her complexion a sickly green as if she may vomit.

"I'm sorry miss, it was rude of me to intrude." she apologized, standing with a curtsey.

"Please, don't be offended. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!" I stood and felt embarrassed, in my youth lamenting the loss of a friend. She turned and forced a kind smile across her lips, still grateful for my deed.

"No trouble at all Miss! I'll send someone up with a nice hot meal." She excused herself from the room. That was that, I had bungled my first attempt to make an acquaintance. I should have been grateful to have my life, but somehow the events of the day overshadowed anything positive. Day one on my own and every person I have met has done horrible things to me, save for the kind barkeep in this old inn.

A rapt knock on the door startled me from my thoughts. Foolishly I answered the door without fear or suspicion. A slender woman in soft leathers the color of midnight stood holding a servant, bound and gagged, in one hand. In the other rested a pristine dinner of seared slaughterfish in a bed of grilled leeks, arranged in a swirling pattern. I tried to discern her features but a thin mask veiled her face, eyes hidden in the shadow of her hood. Without a word she stepped over the threshold.

Sending the man to his knees, she removed the gag. He looked disoriented, and made no move to protest, leading me to believe he had been given some sort of potion. Without further ado, the woman jammed a forkful of slaughterfish into the servant's mouth and forced him to swallow it. One minute passed by, two minutes passed by, then the man fell dead. I have to admit I was quite frightened, a moment that woman would remember well for the rest of her miserable existence. At least it wouldn't be too long.

"Did you even suspect their treachery, sister?" The woman asked, drawing closer to me. I held up my axe between and held my ground.

"I have no siblings." my voice was cold and flat, taking me by surprise. The woman sighed sadly and shook her head.

"Of course your mother didn't tell you. How much do you know about your father?" She asked. I almost passed out, but managed to only sway a little. Who was this woman and what did she know about my father?

"Who are you? Why should I listen to you?" I asked. She had taken me off guard, and at this point a tidal wave of indiscernible emotions was clouding my thoughts.

"I am Astrid. Your father was like a brother to me." She said, voice rich with emotion.

"If you know my father, then speak his name." I dared, testing her mettle. Her eyes glinted at me from over her mask, meeting my stare.

"Gabriel Uriel Valsota." She said proudly, lifting her chin as she rolled the syllables of his name. She produced a small painting of a handsome man, bearing the same regal nose as myself. His hair was golden, unlike my mother's chestnut brown. His smile was easy as he held her close, Astrid and others crowded around them.

My heart stopped, I had never heard anyone besides my mother speak his name let alone see his face. "Well, damn." I replied, head spinning.

I felt as if I were going to vomit as tears blurred the room around me. The shadows swirled and danced as they sensed my weakness, their cool magicka reaching towards me protectively.

My mind refused to process the worn canvas, my mother's familiar face smiling at me the way it always had. Blackness clouded the edges of my vision and I felt as if I could not breathe. From some far away place, I saw the shadows as they descended on me, sending me into their inky abyss.


	3. Tested

A Song of Quiet Weeping

Chapter 3

The first thing I noticed upon waking was the feeling of safety, peace, and darkness. The room was lined with shadows, licking the ceiling and crowding closer to me.

"My old friends." my voice was hoarse, due to the dryness of my throat. I smiled and reached out to them, the companions who have traveled beside me for all of my existence.

At the sound of my voice an inky tendril rose into the air and gave my hand a gentle caress, cool and tender. The patterns of the being danced before my eyes, easily discernible against the lesser shadows of the bed.

To my delight, the tightly interwoven spirals were easily recognizable. "Horatio!" I breathed, happy to see my old friend once again. Horatio is the first shadow to be known to me, to respond to me. He had taken one of his frequent leaves of absence, and I was truly grateful to see him.

A door creaked open somewhere behind me. A hazy sliver of silver light appeared on the wall, sending the shadows scattering to the corners. Horatio also fled, winding his way into the crevices of my pillows. Muffled moans and frantic screams were muffled behind fabric, reacting to the presence of whomever had entered the room. Movement caught my eye as three hooded figures began squirming against their bonds, protesting their captivity.

Shock ran through me as I surveyed the figures. I have obviously been kidnapped, but for what reason? I struggled to remember what had happened to me, but could not remember much past killing Halldor. Why was I not bound as they were bound?

Turning to face the door, I discovered a small woman enshrouded in light armor. Magicka radiated from it, pulling false shadows to conceal her form. Blonde hair stuck out from under her hood, her eyes glinting wildly.

Memories of Astrid chose that moment to surface from the night before. My head whirled with a multitude of questions. How long had I been unconscious anyway? Was this some sort of sick revenge for an act my father committed? Anger boiled up in me, I was not going to let her exact her malicious plans.

"Why did you bring me here, Astrid?" I questioned.

The woman chuckled and touched her hair, "Giving you the chance to be part of your rightful family."

Her statement was bold, causing irritation to course through my veins. However, the curiosity was greater still. She had known my father's name, claimed kinship. Was she some sort of distant cousin? If she was, I doubted we would get along. Nonetheless, at this point I was hungry for any knowledge relating to my father, and was going to get the answers at any cost.

"My rightful family? Who are they?" I questioned.

"The Dark Brotherhood, of course. You don't mean your mother never spoke of us? She was our sister too, once upon a time." Astrid drawled.

"So you are an organization?" I deadpanned.

"More than that my dear. We are a family, children of the same Dark Mother and Dread Father. Your father was one of our shining stars, until his hunger grew too great." Astrid paused, attempting to measure my reaction.

I gave her nothing but a hard, unreachable stare. This was my first encounter with the guild of assassins, I knew it then as sure as the moon hung in the sky. Thankfully, I was smart enough to tread cautiously.

"You are a guild of assassins. You, also, kill for profit." I was standing now, meeting her unflinchingly in nothing but a nightdress.

"Yes. All of your questions will be answered, later. Now it is time for your test." she seemed almost excited.

The thought immediately repulsed me, and I found that I would love to hurt her for daring test me. With the memories of life in the village so fresh in my mind, there was no way I would let her force me into anything.

"Why should I play along?" I asked.

"Well, that is for you to decide. If you succeed, our family will welcome you with open arms. You will be accepted, and always have a steady job." She replied solicitously.

"Why don't I just kill you and ransom the families of these people?" I pressed.

She took a moment to consider this, "What if the families have no money to give you?"

"Then I'll take what they have and kill them when I'm done. I'm guessing you've got a bit of gold on you too, so I reckon it will be worth it." I replied casually, eyes glinting like pieces of ice.

"Do you really think you can kill me?" Her tone was arrogant.

"Yes." I responded.

She laughed, "Oh, Nazir will enjoy you. I am the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, silly girl, it will take you years to even match my level."

I always have been, and always will be, disgusted with people who feel the burning need to be superior. Astrid was no exception, though at this point she held the key to the answers I was seeking. Biting back my tongue, and pride, I relented.

"So what is the challenge?" I questioned.

"One of these three are marked to be killed. You must choose the one which the Dark Brotherhood has been contracted to extinguish," She began, "There is Fultheim the Fearless, a brave and stupid man. Alea Quintus, vain and deceitful. And finally we come to Vasha, a particularly spicy individual."

"So I must choose the correct victim?" I asked.

Just to be sure, and because I didn't know what else to say. The whole situation was, quite frankly, absurd. But I would take whatever she threw my way, even though I knew nothing about this shady group.

"You are correct. Take your time, you may talk to them." She moved to remove their gags, a teasing smile crossing her face.

I intercepted, "No, I'll kill them all. I don't want any witnesses to this interaction."

Steadying myself, I slit all three throats. Two struggled, the Kajiit merely laughed.

Astrid held me in a fierce stare as dying gasps filled the air. When they quieted, silence rang deep and true.

"Well done, sister." Astrid finally spoke.

I felt as if I would vomit. _Sister_, the affectionate term sounded like poison as it rolled off her tongue. Nonetheless, it was time to seriously contemplate her offer. I had never had the luxury to enjoy the act of killing, though I knew deep down that I did. It was true that I was looking for something new, and this was the first opportunity that had popped up.

"What does 'well done' entail?" I spoke carefully.

She handed me a piece of parchment, a map outlining a winding trail right down to a little X.

"That is our sanctuary. Remember the words: Silence, my brother. I hope to see you there." She explained, also handing me a key.

"What is this for?" I asked.

"This place. It is now available for you to use as you wish." she replied.

On impulse, I summoned the shadows. Not that this was appropriate, but because the trivial way in which she treated me had gotten under my young skin.

The shadows rushed into the room, pouring in like a whispering flood. I called more and more, I wished them all beside me. Sensing my irritation at Astrid, they began to buffet her clothing and whip at her face. Soon her mask fell and we locked eyes, her own full of anger and fear. Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the night. The door slammed shut behind her, and once more the shadows fell silent.

For the first time in my life, I could revel in the glow of self satisfaction.

A/N: Okay, we're getting a little closer to the characters we know and love, I promise =3


	4. His Daughter

A Song Of Quiet Weeping

Chapter 4

When I finally awoke from that long slumber, I was numb with cold. The blankets on the threadbare bed were barely enough to keep the cold at bay, and the fire had blown out some time ago. The temperature, however, did keep the sickly sweet smell of decomposing flesh at bay.

I stretched and yawned, letting the day's dilemmas play out before my eyes. Astrid had been cocky, arrogant, and self assured. But she had offered me a job, and more importantly, a link to my past. She had given me a map, and a riddle. I could not begin to fathom what it meant, at this point feeling a little bit bogged down. But I needed answers, about my father, _the shadows_.

I checked the map, once again disappointed by how far the sanctuary lay from the shack. Thankfully, there were some supplies laying about. Reflecting back on it now, I realize that they were deliberate. There was the exact amount of food for a two day jaunt to the south.

It was a lighthearted journey, with clear blue skies and just the hint of spring in the breeze. You know the kind of day, perfect, devastatingly beautiful, and entirely unforgettable. Hours in relative quiet and solitude, headed on a bold new adventure, spirits soaring high. Yes, that was a most perfect day, and I wish I could dwell on it forever. Now, we must continue on the path of shadow, where more sinister beasties lie.

The map was right on target. Astrid, or someone else, had done a fabulous job. It was easy to locate the dark pool, with it's mysterious black tide ever churning. And the door, its presence could be felt for quite a distance, radiating a low thrum of magicka.

"What is the music of the night?" A low hiss asked, seeming to emanate from the oaken construct, wedged tightly into the surrounding rock.

Then, I remembered the words that Astrid had instructed me to speak, "Silence, my brother."

The door swung open of its own accord, for no living creature had come to greet me on this bright and cheery afternoon. Cold, musty air radiated from the portal, raising the hairs on my arm as it seemed to caress my skin.

I could feel a pull inside me, almost like a longing. One foot slid in front of the other, though I was barely conscious of it. My fingertips delighted in the texture of the stone walls, worn smooth with time. Soon soft yellow lamplight illuminated a landing, opening into a small chamber and leading to another set of stairs beyond. I knew then that this place was home, that it was mine.

Astrid was astride a great oaken table, an aged map draped across her legs, an expression of intense concentration splayed across her face. At the sound of my approach, she looked up and smirked, the flash of cunning in her eyes.

"Good, you made it. Come sister, let us get you settled in." she said, rising to hold me in an embrace.

At the time, I felt as if I could not refuse, though I knew a snake-in-the-grass when one came up and bit me.

She led me down the second flight of stairs, into a room that appeared to be the central hub of a series of tunnels and entrance ways.

"Come, Babette will bring you your armor shortly. For now, you must meet Nazir. You will report to him for all contracts, until you advance further in status. Do you understand?" She snapped, setting a furious pace, determined to get me lost and confused.

She was still angry about the shadow indecent, and it was obvious why. Something still seemed a little off about her, almost unstable, though I couldn't place my finger on it.

"Ah, welcome home sister!" A deep voice flowed towards us as we descended a semi-circular flight of stairs, it's owner sitting at a well laid banquet table. There were apples and sweetrolls, seared slaughterfish and mutton, grilled leeks, baked potatoes, and more. The dark skinned man rose from his seat, eyes glinting mischievously in the flicker of the flames.

"Yes, Nazir, it is good to see you too, brother. This is Saeunn, Gabriel Valsota's daughter." she replied, acting as if she were showing off a prize.

"When I look at you, I feel as if I can almost see your father again. I am honored to meet you, Miss Valsota. You may call me Nazir, come to me if you need any training in light armor." the man introduced, bending to kiss the back of my knuckles.

From the very instant I laid eyes upon Nazir, I felt a connection. Nothing romantic, but something simple and true, as if he was a brother I had known for many ages.

"I am pleased to meet you, and honored to hear kind words spoken of my father." I accepted, and returned his gesture with a small bow of my own.

Nazir laughed loudly, filling the room with the rich sound of his voice, "Your father was a true brother to all of us."

I waited for him to continue, but he merely reclaimed his seat and took a large drink from a slender goblet. Astrid seemed to be unsatisfied with the interaction, and chewed her lip in thought.

"There you are, Astrid. I've been looking for you!" a child's playful voice rang throughout the chambers, startling me proper.

Astrid turned to face the newcomer, taking a pile of leather and cotton armor from the small girl's arms, "Ah, thank you Babette. How are those poisons coming?"

"They should be ready in a few days. But I still have some poison apples, if you're interested?" Babette solicited, raising a brow.

The blonde smiled, "Thank you, Babette. I will include the payment in your weekly cut."

"Looks like we have a new recruit here." the mousy girl continued, eying me with a strange intensity.

"Yes, I am Saeunn." I extended a hand for her to shake, which she took with surprising strength. I couldn't help but be off-put by that startling gaze, her smile dotted with ivory fang.

"I can see him in you, without you telling me. You smell like him, too." Babette remarked.

"Yes, yes, she's had enough of that today." Astrid interjected on my behalf, her cool voice holding a slight edge.

She did not attempt conversation as she led me though the poison garden, which had an attractive view of the pond below. We moved though another corridor, and soon we were in a room obviously meant to be sleeping quarters. There were eight beds, each one with its own chest.

"Here, it's the one against the south wall." She said, handing me a key and turning to leave, "Oh, and one last thing; I'm the boss around here. Don't forget it."

As soon as the door slammed firmly shut, every candle and lamp in the room were instantly snuffed out. A warm wind blew through the room, tickling my face, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The static charge of magicka raced through the air, crackling like thrown stones.

"Saeunn." A masculine voice breathed, so close I could feel the his breath.

Relief instantly washed over me, glad that my unpredictable and somewhat whimsical

"I thought I might find you here, fraternizing with murderers and cut-throats." he murmured into my hair, inhaling deeply before claiming my lips.

"Yes, it appears that I'll be sending souls to your brother for a while." I remarked, playing on the edge of danger, though I did not yet know how serious the consequences were for taunting the mad god. There was just something about Sheogorath that tickled my playful side, set me at ease. Not to mention his arresting looks and plentiful libido.

"But your soul is still mine, right?" He asked, a little too casually.

"It never was, and never shall be. My soul is my own, Lord Sheogorath." I asserted, fixing him with a stern expression.

"Come now, lass, what's the fun in keeping it for yourself?" He replied quickly, sliding his hands underneath the worn fabric of my tunic.

"I feel like I'm going insane. Things are better without the village, but still different than I expected. I feel like I'll be alone forever, with how off putting my shadows are. I can't let people push me around anymore either, yet most people resent an assertive woman." I confided, turning my lip out in a pout.

Sheogorath put one strong finger over my soft lips, his skin rough and callused, sending waves of heat throughout my body. At the command of his mind, our clothes were scattered in various places throughout the room. The wind picked up, and the crack of thunder could be heard from outside. He looked at me then, and growled, slow and feral.

I was upon him in seconds, meeting him in the middle of the battlefield. Grabbing his hips, I pulled his broad frame against my body, our tongues dancing gracefully while we each battled for control. His scent was like pine trees and rain, with just the lightest hint of mead, tantalizing and bold. We paused to move to the bed, where I straddled him and ran a hand though the salt and pepper curls on his chest.

"Maybe you should cradle the insanity." Sheogorath suggested, lazily lifting a hand to cup one of my breasts.

"Do you wish to see the end of me, my daedric prince?" I asked, worry creasing my brow.

Sheogorath merely laughed, easily rolling me onto the bed. There, he not-so-gently nudged apart my thighs, rubbing himself against the very center of my womanhood.

I moaned and arched against him, winding my legs around his own, deepening his succulent kisses. He jerked as I took his manhood, stroking it gently before massaging the more tender parts below. The mad god moaned, every muscle in his body still as he let my touch seep through him.

With a slight adjustment of his hips, he slid inside me, eliciting a simultaneous moan.

"Give yourself to me, Saeunn." The daedra commanded, his powerful strokes bringing tide after tide of pleasure.

"What do you want of me, Sheogorath?" I gasped.

"Everything."


	5. Rewards

A Song of Quiet Weeping

Chapter 5 – Rewards

I had awoke the following morning feeling more than a little unsettled. At this point, committing everything to a man was a foreign concept. I could not even begin to fathom what it meant, though throughout my youth I often fantasized about marrying Sheogorath. After my mother died, the illusion was shattered. On my own, I could see him for what he was. A mad god.

I shuddered as I thought about what his request might entail. Would he expect me to live with him in the realm of madness? Would he kill me like he had all his previous wives? It was more than likely.

When the thoughts crossed my mind, shivers pulsed down my spine as a full color image of execution rock played before my eyes. No, I decided, that would not be my fate.

"Ahh, the new initiate is finally awake," Babette's voice drawled from somewhere within the room. Turning, I noticed her on a small bed not too far away from mine.

"Hello, Babette," I responded, rubbing the seeds of sleep from my eyes.

"Did you sleep well, my sister?" she questioned, red eyes fixed keenly on my own.

"No," I replied casually, intending to end the conversation there. Sadly, the gods did not vote in my favor.

"Was it because of _him_?" Babette whispered conspiratorially.

I cast my sharp gaze at the old girl, "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing," Babette replied, completely taken aback by the woman's reaction. "I heard you from the hallway last night, Sheogorath did not erect a barrier," she tested.

I chose to hold my silence. Not for any strategic reason, though it was good for her to sweat a little, but because I simply did not know what to say. Her purpose for bringing these things to light were unclear, and I had formed a sneaking suspicion that she was chasing ghosts of the past. Well, I was not my father's daughter then, and I never would be.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start off on the wrong foot," Babette quipped.

I stood and made to exit the room, then paused. "It's okay Babette," I replied on a whim, an odd sort feeling stealing over my heart. I was so estranged from having any sort of relationship with another person, simple interactions had become fiercely complicated. Nonetheless, in a den of murderers one could never be too cautious.

I made my way towards the dining hall which Nazir had been lounging in the previous night, curious as to what sort of work he would assign me. I walked down a narrow hallway and came into the pond room, where all the dark brotherhood initiates were gathered.

Confusion clouded my mind as I beheld an odd spectacle; some sort of jester dancing in front of an ancient coffin. All of the members I had met the day before were there, along with an assortment of ones I hadn't. Astrid seemed to be mildly irritated, while others wore expressions of amusement.

"Yes, Cicero keeps the mother, he takes care of the mother," the jester rambled, attempting to shake Astrid's hand. The woman gave him a haughty expression, and kept her hands neatly tucked into the crooks of her arms.

"Excuse me if I'm being rude, but what the hell is going on here?" I asked, brow creased in befuddlement. I simply could not grasp why there was a dancing fool in the sanctuary, hoping that he was not a member of the brotherhood.

"Saeunn, this is Cicero, Keeper of the Night Mother," Astrid explained in a mocking tone.

I remembered the Night Mother from her explanations the night before. She was the supposed creator of the Dark Brotherhood, forging it from the blood of her own children.

"And he is a jester?" I questioned, still confused.

"Yes," A surly nord spoke.

"Don't be too hard on her, Arnbjorn, this is stressful for all of us," Astrid soothed him, placing an arm on one thick shoulder. The tall man growled, yet cast her a small smile before resuming his intimidating stance.

"Arnbjorn is the smith here, don't take him too seriously, he will warm up to you eventually," Nazir comforted me, drawing my attention away from the couple.

"Saeunn," Astrid called, drawing my attention right back.

I turned to fully face her, already starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the day. Honestly, I couldn't blame myself.

"Come with me, I want to speak to you alone," she commanded, nodding up the staircase that would take me out of the sanctuary.

"Sure," I replied, pushing past the blabbering fool and doing my best to tune him out. I must admit, I always have been quite good at ignoring that which displeases me.

We came to stand in the small room in which she had first greeted me. Astrid had once again seated herself on the large table, an old leather tome gripped loosely in one hand.

"I need you to do a favor for me," she began, sliding off the wooden structure to stand fully, "I want you to keep an eye on Cicero. I just don't trust him."

"And you trust me?" I questioned, eying her suspiciously. Even then, I could sense her manipulations, the thick strands of her web threatening to take me prisoner as she wove her schemes.

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't?" came the expected response.

"No, I was just surprised that you would task me with something like this so soon," I blurted in a bad effort to save face.

"Good. Here, I want you to have this," she said, extending the aged volume towards me.

I accepted, running my fingers across the cracked binding. The tingle of magicka shot up my arm, and I knew this to be a spell.

"Are you expecting this task to be dangerous?" I asked curiously, opening the cover to expose the fragile pages within.

"I have a feeling it may be," Astrid said slyly, "So I give you to command a brother from long ago. The Legendary Assassin, Lucien LaChance."

"If he is Legendary, shouldn't his soul be allowed to rest?" I asked.

"He belongs to Sithis now, a servant of the void. He gladly lends his strength to family in need," Astrid explained, a kind smile winding its way across her face, though I could tell it was forced.

"Thank you," I accepted, though I still had my reservations about the tome. Though I wouldn't admit it, I was a little excited, too.

"You are to report back to me each day at midnight. Now, you are dismissed. Eat food, get to know your brothers and sisters, and keep an eye on the jester," she commanded, making her best effort to be nice.

Since I lacked the desire to spend any more time in the woman's company, I took her advice. Walking back into the pond room, I took in the beauty of the sanctuary.

Despite the forge, the air was nice and cool due to the natural skylights. Plants grew under the small opening, though I could tell they were intentionally planted. Despite this, the local foliage had found purchase. Water lilies floated in the small pool, and small nirnroots sprang forth from the water's edge. Weeds were fighting for dominance with the nightshade, though Babette had entered the room and was setting up to remove them.

"I really am sorry about what I said to you earlier today. It was rude of me," Babette apologized when she had finished laying out her equipment.

"Think nothing of it. After all, we are part of the same family now," I sighed.

Babette looked as if she had something else to say, but decided against it and instead returned to her project. My stomach let out an audible growl, alerting me that it was indeed the time to end this encounter. As I drifted towards the dining hall, I could not resist the urge to take a peek at the book.

It seemed to have roots in basic summoning spells, but quickly took a far more complex form. The language was old Cyrodyllic, so I could only glean a partial understanding. Luckily, I felt confident in translating the words of the actual spell.

Taking in a deep breath, I began the chant. Wisps of blue light erupted a few feet away, swirling into a man's form.

He was tall, but only a few inches above my own height. His face was soft, yet his spectral eyes danced with what I could only describe as _the void_.

"I live...again," he spoke, stretching his arms and giving me a pleasant smile, "And what sister summons me?"

"My name is Saeunn," I spoke, trembling from the magicka the act had cost me.

A loud scream pierced the silence of the sanctuary. There was a pause, then a clamor erupted from the banquet hall.

"Stop him!" I heard Arnbjorn's rough voice call from deeper within the sanctum.

"You can not stop me!" Came Cicero's wild response.

"No, he has Gabriella!" Astrid called.

I glanced at the assassin I had just conjured before running full speed towards the commotion. Once in the banquet hall, I saw a body I did not recognize, throat slashed. There was a trail of bloody footprints that lead towards the sleeping quarters, so I followed it silently down the hall.

Screams still issued from a room ahead, and soon forms began to materialize from the darkness. Astrid, Arnbjorn, Babette, Nazir, and an Argonian were standing in front of a locked door marked with bloody hand prints.

"Saeunn, I'm glad you could make it," Astrid snapped, giving me a foul glance.

I shot a heated glare back before replying, "What's going on here?"

"It's Cicero," she sighed, "He's gone crazy."


	6. Leather Strips

Sorry for the delay in updates. Long story short-Comcast sucks many big ones.

A Song of Quiet Weeping

Chapter 6: Leather Strips

"Obviously. What has he done?" I asked, irritated by Astrid's childish attitude.

"He took a slash at me after you left. He must have been spying on us." She grunted, waving the bloody cloth tied around her left arm in my face.

"Well, I can understand his sentiments," I remarked, not realizing to stay my tongue.

Astrid made an odd face, as if a powerful odor had just hit her nose. She took a second to really look at me, from head to toe, before choosing her next words, "Just get in there and deal with the fool!"

I looked to the spectral assassin standing just behind my shoulder. I could feel the chill radiating from him, stealing the warmth from my bones.

"Well?" he spoke, lifting one ghostly brow.

I lifted my own in response, "Shall we?" I walked to the door, removing an orcish dagger that Nazir had given me the day before.

As I rested my hand on the lock, an odd shock rippled through my body. Despite my instinct to jump away, it seemed as if I were frozen in place. I could hear the others whispering behind me, yet I could not turn to engage them.

"By sithis," Lucien whispered in my ear.

_Daughter, I have waited a long time for our paths to cross, _a slow female voice hissed in my ear, _tell Cicero to make a wish on the lucky old lady for old time's sake._

I was suddenly on the ground, jolted from the spell that had rendered me immobile.

"Are you alright?" Astrid asked, using her good arm to heft me to my feet. Our gazes locked, and suddenly I realized that her blue fire was tinged with the green of jealousy.

A feeling of unease immediately slunk down my throat and settled somewhere deep in my stomach. And I was right to feel so-jealousy was a fearful thing indeed, because those who succumb to its curse make unpredictable and powerful foes.

Well, I couldn't waste time any longer. Sucking in a deep breath, I knocked on the door, "Cicero, The Night Mother wishes you to make a wish on the lucky old lady for old time's sake."

"Oh is that so, and did she say anything else to you?" The jester responded, causing my stomach to flip.

Of course she hadn't said anything else, which wasn't surprising. At that moment, I wondered if it wasn't just a signal to kill me. It would be ironic, an assassin marking their own life.

"Beautiful music on the winds of death," I suddenly spat, taking myself completely by surprise.

The door burst open, sending me tumbling inside. As I regained my feet, I heard the oaken mass slam and lock behind me. Bodies hit the door, and angry shouts issued from the other side.

"Oh, the Listener! Cicero is a little...sad, but it is so good that the Great Silence is finally over! She speaks, to you! Her beautiful voice recognized once more, to put an end to the pretender," he cried in joy.

"What?" I asked, taken completely by surprise.

"When I heard you plotting against me with the pretender, I was so...angry! But for some reason The Night Mother has shown you favor, so you can't be like her."

"Her?"

"Astrid, of course!" he spat her name is if it were repulsive.

"What about her?" I asked dumbly. I had barely gotten my bearings in the sanctuary, and felt like I was missing half the picture.

"She wants the Dark Brotherhood for herself, she spurns The Night Mother." the fool hissed, stepping closer to the coffin. He surveyed it with loving affection, then began to gently caress it. One by one, the locks came undone and the great stone doors swung open. Inside, there was a twisted skeleton. Its mouth hung open on the cruel face of death, eyes glowing a vivid red.

_He speaks the truth, child,_ her voice spoke to me once more as those ghastly eyes flickered with every syllable.

The door to the room broke open as Arnbjorn stormed in, followed closely by Astrid and Nazir.

"Just what the hell is going on in here?" Astrid spoke with an air of command.

"She spoke, she spoke! And named her," Cicero pointed to me, "_The Listener."_

"What is he talking about?" she demanded, turning her attention to me.

"Well, it's true. The Night Mother speaks to me," I replied, shifting uncomfortably. I felt like I was just barely getting on my feet, and was skittish about getting knocked back down.

"Ugh, this is all too much! Kill that little fool and let us be done with this nonsense. Gabriella, Babette, get this corpse out of the Sanctuary."

_No!_ The night mother's voice echoed through the room, and this time everyone heard it. A shadow darker than any other inched its way slowly from the throat of the Night Mother's corpse. It floated to Lucien, pausing to caress his cheek, before moving on to me. It wound its way around my body, and I felt _her_ sink into my form.

"_Astrid, you have corrupted this family enough! Bow to the will of Sithis, or be sent to the void to meet your judgment,"_ She commanded with my voice, raising my hand and calling to her a dagger that rested at Astrid's side. Brandishing it at her, The Night Mother awaited her response.

"I-I see now the error of my ways, Unholy Matron," Astrid spoke dumbly as she fell to her knees before me. I felt The Night Mother's hesitancy, her probing curiosity. She wondered if Astrid was sincere, and searched the woman's mind for the answer.

"_Then it is done,"_ The Night Mother replied, her voice fading from my lips as she withdrew from my body, _Listener, it is up to you to rebuild the Dark Brotherhood. Reconstruct The Black Hand, and rebuild the Sanctuary in Dawnstar. When you are ready, I will reveal your next task._ And she was gone, just like that.

My head was spinning. I had read about The Black Hand, understood how it operated. But that was not the problem, seeing as though I couldn't say I truly knew anyone. As the burden settled more fully on my shoulders, I felt the need to get some air.

"Look, I just need some time to think. The Night Mother, you being Listener..." Astrid trailed off awkwardly as she engaged me with orders, "I need you to speak with Arcadia in Whiterun. She has a job for you, do that and return home. Understand?"

"Yes," I replied, narrowing my eyes. I wanted to ask her more, but knew she would not answer any personal questions. I also did not feel like remaining in her company, so I took off as fast as I could.

Nazir had given me a map of Skyrim. It wasn't overly embellished with details, but it got the job done. After a long day of travel, I crawled into a small cave and discovered that it was much bigger than it seemed. Small passageways opened up into grand caverns dappled with mining materials and bridges. Tunnels had been carefully carved into the dense rock, exposing ore and gem deposits.

Despite the rich bounty, the accompanying noise was strangely absent. I slunk cautiously through the shadows cast by the torch light, careful to observe every detail. Noticing a strong pulse of heat blowing from a more recent tunnel, I discovered my next direction.

The crackle of fire was audible as the first glimmers of light penetrated the gloom. As the tunnel opened up into a small man made chamber, I saw the bear. One massive paw was pressing firmly against the throat of a dead man as the creature slowly chewed on his entrails. Blood flowed freely onto the floor, trickling as lazy as the beast that spilled it. The soft splash of water ebbed and flowed from somewhere close, despite the flame of the forge glowing hotly from a raised section of the room.

Fear pulsed through me as I withdrew a basic hunting bow and notched an arrow. I attempted to recall everything my mother had taught me, but found that it was all just a haze. Hoping that I still had a few instincts, I took aim at the bear's eye.

The beast blinked as if it sensed that it had suddenly become the hunted. It turned one unfocused eye to the small stream, then stretched its maw in a jaw cracking yawn.

Realizing my chance, I drew the string back fully and loosed the arrow with a sharp exhale.

It sailed high, then at the last second arced gracefully down into the soft pink tissue of the bear's throat. It roared in protest, the sound quickly becoming wet and sticky. It attempted to remove the arrow, only managing to cause further damage to the tender flesh. A sick burbling began from somewhere below the arrow, becoming dull and flat as gas escaped the dying animal. The bear eased onto the floor and became quite relaxed, allowing the blood to drip freely from its lips. With one final shudder, it left this world behind.

I crept forward, surveying the room for cubs or a mate. As I approached the forge, I beheld the makings of something truly beautiful. A stunning axe, ornately carved with wolf heads and ancient markings. It was much bigger than my own, but still light and quick. I picked it up and quickly discovered what needed to be done; the handle was not bound and half the blade was broken off.

The materials needed were close by, and seeing as though I was going to be here for the night I thought I might as well get something for it.

I quickly discovered that I was wrong. The materials I needed were not all there. The ingots were iron, not steel. There was a pile of iron ore by the smelter, though it still took me a while to figure out that I had to mine the corrundum. When that was finally done, the true work began.

The axe was tougher than any steel I had seen before. I had to temper it well into the next day before it was as tough as the original material. Conscious about losing time, I pushed myself to my limits. Around dusk, I was finally ready to plunge the metal into water for the last time.

"_What makes you worthy to wield my mighty axe?"_ a voice spoke from behind me. Whirling around, I came face to face with a grand ghost wearing extremely flamboyant armor.

"No more ghosts," I mumbled, wiping at my tired eyes.

The man laughed, "_I like the look of you, a woman who can take care of herself. But I wonder, is your honor true enough to wield my axe?"_

"I don't care what you say. I earned this with my own blood and sweat," I snapped instantly, holding the still hot axe closer to my body.

"_What do you know of the time before Skyrim, before the nords tamed the tundra?" _he asked.

"Just who are you?"

"_My name is Ysgramor."_

By the time I reached Whiterun I felt very tired. Ysgramor had kept me awake while he recounted tales from the epic saga that was once his life. I will admit, he does have a certain charm that set me at ease almost instantly. Conversation was free, and relieved me of the burdens I needed distance from.

The town was very much alive, with a quaint charm which perfectly emulated the rural villages that dotted Skyrim's countryside. The Jarl's palace dominated part of the horizon, towering well above the city from its high vantage point.

Nazir had clued me in to the Bannered Mare, but all the signs were so faded that I could barely make out the names. Some of them were obvious, like the general store and the smithy. Deciding that I could use a new pair of boots, I pushed open the dusty door to Belethor's General Goods.

"Welcome, everything is for sale my friend!" the man behind the counter belted in a grizzled voice.

"Your friend? Interesting. What boots do you have?" I replied, looking over his selection of alchemy ingredients. I picked up some lavender, and saw an interesting glimmer. A small pouch of some sort of powder shimmered under my touch, glowing with a faint blue light.

My curiosity had been peaked. Curling my fingers more tightly around the bag, I moved to the counter.

"I think you might like these," Belethor murmured, eyes instantly flashing to the pouch on the counter, "Are you trying to get me in trouble or something?"

I followed his gaze, heart instantly sinking. "No," I said simply, holding his eyes for a few seconds. I didn't know what I was getting into, so I decided to bluff my way out and slink off into the gathering twilight.

"I have...finer wares, if the lady is so inclined?" he suggested, leaning in and lifting a brow.

I became completely still as I considered what he may be asking. Probably some other illegal substances, Skooma perhaps. I had only tasted it once before this encounter, and I remembered well how it was ever so sweet.

"Show me," I commanded.

And it was as simple as that. Belethor scurried off into the back of the shop as I gathered a few pairs of boots and sat on a bench nearby to see how they fit.

A cough startled me from making a decision on a particularly comfortable and stealthy pair. "It's seventy for a bottle, and thirty for sap," the man breathed.

"One of each," I replied, setting my purchase on the counter. The rest of the exchange was kept formal, and when I left the shop I felt oddly unsettled, as if this business was far from over. As I turned away from the shop, I noticed a rather large structure that had the distinct markings of an Inn.

When I opened the door noise hit my ears and the savory aroma of food curled into my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, and made my way to the counter.

"What can I do for you?" the woman asked, leaning on her elbows. The wood of the counter groaned slightly under her weight, worn and smooth with age. The light seemed glaring as I peered out from beneath a deep cowl, flickering intensely at times.

"I'd like a room and a hot meal, please," I asked.

A flicker of movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. I turned to my right and noticed a middle aged gentleman, cane and all, sitting a few stools away. His clothes were lacking their usual flamboyant charm. Compulsion drove me to rise from my chair, for how could I not make contact with _Him_? However, before I could even complete the action a man in robes as black as my own slipped into the seat beside me.

"Hello Miss, fancy a drinking contest?" he asked, all devilish charm and flashing teeth. Something about him was different, his magicka sending off a unique trace as it pulsed from his body.

"What manner of creature are you?" I replied, cocking my head to the side.

The man looked taken aback, then his face quickly drew closed in realization as he glanced over his shoulder to see what I was looking at. There sat Sheogorath, now fully turned, legs crossed and cocky grin in place.

"I've taught this one well," he spoke, voice like velvet on a cool autumn night.

"What are you doing here, Mad One?" the man spoke, curiosity lacing his snide tone.

"Oh, you know! Just the usual," and with that, he downed his flagon of mead and licked his mustache with a satisfied noise.

"Who is this man, Sheogorath?" I questioned, though it took me a while to realize that I already knew the general answer.

The man laughed, deep and rich. "Exactly who is this little mortal of yours Sheogorath?" he asked.

His tone caused the mad god's eyes to harden, yet flicker with the inner fire that always burned deep in those pitch black pools. I could practically see his mind working at an intense speed, his cunning and wit battling with the need to satiate his urges. "She is one of mine," he commanded.

The man backed up a few steps and laughed again, then turned to me. "Is this true, girl?" he asked.

"I'm not a girl, I'm a woman. Get it right," I snapped. Perhaps I just didn't know what else to do.

"Bold, too. Tell me, do you know what sort of things someone like me could do to someone like you?" the man purred.

"Who are you?" I repeated, this time directly to the stranger.

"My dear, I thought you would never ask. I am Sanguine," he tested, searching for a reaction.

"Sanguine, I have heard a great deal of fuss about you," I acknowledged politely, looking to Sheogorath to gauge his reaction. Honestly, I had never seen him like this before. Usually he is in a whimsical mood, brimming with his endless fount of dramatic ways to turn the races insane. Now, all the amusement was gone. His posture had gone stiff, and he had shifted in his chair as if he would pounce on his brother at the slightest provocation.

Sanguine glanced over Sheogorath's shoulder and smiled at the spectacle they had aroused. I followed suit, and quickly realized that I could no longer speak privately to anyone here. Anger suddenly flooded me, anger at the daedra and their silly need for competition.

"Gentlemen, shall we retire?" I asked, moving past Sanguine and holding an arm out to Sheogorath. Apparently I was lacking common sense, but I still realized my best bet was to stick with the enemy I knew.

"So, you are content to let your immortal soul rest forever in his hands?" Sanguine asked as the doors to my quarters shut, clapping his hands together and making a sarcastic face that looked somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

I glanced to Sheogorath and instantly knew I was being put in a bad position. With a sick twist in my gut, I realized that Sanguine was prying at the truth. The Mad God's face was actually _glowing. _It appeared that if he smiled any wider his face would stick.

"So the truth comes out. Well, now that that's settled, why don't we have a little fun?" Sanguine spoke, adopting the same attitude as Sheogorath. I looked to my Mad God and found his gaze cast to the ground. Sanguine approached me with a wicked grin, reaching for something in his pocket. "You don't mind, do you Sheogorath? I will punish her for you, if you like," he cackled.

Sheogorath remained silent, but met my eyes with a casual expression. It was one I knew well-he only wore it in victory.

"You win," I conceded, never leaving his eyes.

His lips twisted into a small grin as he took two divine steps forward and rested a hand on my shoulder.

Then we were gone.


	7. Tricked

A Song Of Quiet Weeping

Chapter 7: Tricked

When I opened my eyes I found that I was back at the Dawnstar sanctuary, tucked neatly into my bed. Struggling to sit, I found that I felt as if I had been asleep for a very long time.

"Good evening," Babette's voice called to me from the shadows. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but eventually her sitting form became clear at a table by the end of the beds.

"Why are you always here when I wake up?" I groaned, leaning back into the furs and rubbing my eyes. Memories and thoughts of the previous night danced on the back of my eyelids and I found them hard to banish.

"Coincidence, I guess. Maybe I just like you," she sang, kicking her legs a little.

I found this repulsive, though instantly knew better. She was forever a child; it had to leave its mark in certain ways. Rolling out of bed, I pulled on a green robe and began the shuffle to the warm spring in the central cavern.

"Are you okay?" she called from behind me.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, turning to more fully face her.

Babette looked hesitant, and her eyes flickered down as her body turned away. It was as if she knew something and then decided not to tell me.

"What is it?" my voice called softly into the shadows.

Turning back to face me, the little vampire looked almost sorry. "Sithis will hear your words, Sister," she spoke, then made an unnaturally rapid exit into the depths of the sanctuary.

I was stunned, to put it simply. In some way, I was outraged at her persistent observation of my life while I am in the Sanctuary. It seemed as if she never completely left me in these shadowed rooms, but merely granted me the illusion from time to time. Next, I was left to wonder exactly how I had come to be here in the first place. Desperately, I hoped that I had walked in, seemingly normal, and gone straight to bed.

The memory of previous events began to turn my stomach, and I found that I was very confused about Sheogorath. He had always been a source of comfort and familiarity, I did not wish him from my life. Yet I longed for more distance between us. So far, he had been my only lover, my secret companion; it was hard for me to decide what came next-if I had the choice.

"Is something troubling you, Listener?" A man's velvet voice spoke from the shadows as a spectral form emerged from the nearest wall.

"Lucien, how long have you been hanging around?" I asked, taken aback. I had not summoned him, nor seen him since the incident with Cicero. I had searched the Sanctuary but it appeared that he had vanished into The Void once more.

The ancient assassin laughed, rolling his shoulders back as if enjoying a good stretch. "Your subconscious mind summoned me as you slept, Listener. Fortunately, this place has proved...interesting," he commented.

"Do you wish to return to your proper realm?" I asked politely, feeling a bit awkward.

Lucien took a minute to think this over. "No," he spoke simply, a small grin twisting his face.

I shrugged and decided to leave that matter be. Instead, I sauntered over to the spring and dipped my feet in, allowing the heat to soothe and repair. "How connected have you stayed with this realm, Lucien?" I asked after a fashion.

The assassin came to sit by my side, mimicking my pose. I wondered if he could feel the water, or if the heat lent him energy somehow. "I'm afraid I've been out of contact since my untimely demise," he drawled, with just the hint of a laugh in his tone.

"I see," I responded, unsure of what I wanted to say next.

"There you are," Astrid called, making a timely interruption, "I've been waiting for you. How did the contract go?"

"Alright, I guess," I lied, though it seemed my answer mattered little.

"Good. Listen, I was wrong earlier and I see that now. I should have never strayed from the Night Mother."

Now this was a tricky load to handle. I had to think quick on my feet, and the possibilities seemed endless. "Okay, the first step is to rebuild from the ground up as the Night Mother ordered. You shall be the first Speaker," I started, then gave pause. Exactly which members shall fill the remaining three positions? I hadn't given it much thought, and held no desire to start now.

"I understand," she nodded, giving me a curious expression, "Do you have any others in mind?"

"Nazir, Arnbjorn, but I'm unsure about the third," I admitted, relieved to have a confidante.

"Perhaps Babette?"

My first instinct was to say no, and my mind ran through the possible questions she may ask. I couldn't think of any concrete reason for her dismissal. "Do you trust her?" I asked instead, looking her straight in the eye.

"Yes, with my life," She spoke without hesitation, and gave no sign of deceit.

"Then it's settled," I conceded, feeling unsettled. I rose from my position in the water and felt the urge to find something away from Astrid to occupy my time.

"What is our next move, now that the hand has been assembled?" she asked, seemingly the picture of innocence.

I wondered if she was trying my nerves on purpose, and had to bite back a scathing response. "It isn't assembled yet. Let's gather in two hours. I'd like time to...speak with The Night Mother," I commanded, feeling in that moment that I was a stack of cards propped up on false bravado. One gust of wind and perhaps it would all come tumbling down; on the other hand, the glue could hold fast.

"Understood," she dismissed herself, turning towards her chambers.

As I turned to watch her go, something inside of me shifted. I cocked my head to the side and felt a sort of bitter humor settle over me. _Those will be __**my**__chambers,_ I thought firmly. In the next moment, I was quite myself again. I felt a little woozy, and perhaps a little scared. Such aggression was alien to me, yet it was as if I had somehow forgotten that. With a jolt, I realized exactly what I was feeling and it didn't evoke shame.

I was prideful; I had, admittedly through circumstance, rose to the highest rank in this organization. I couldn't sleep in the whelp's quarters, could I?

Lucien laughed beside me, and I felt a cool hand clamp down on my shoulder. I had forgotten he was there.

As loathe as I was to return to my current quarters, I needed to change into my armor and wake up enough to face four people I'd rather not see. The narrow bed groaned under my weight as I struggled to cram my hand into the crack between the wall and the bed.

Inhaling slowly, the aqua blue powder drifted towards my face with a mind of its own.

The Night Mother was still situated in Cicero's room. As soon as I opened the door the Jester jumped, scampering back as if I had caught him doing something forbidden.

"Ah, the Listener!" he said, then seemed to fixate on a place a few feet above my head. His eyes dilated, as if relaxing into the picture.

I turned only to find blank stone, and found that Cicero was quite content to study it like a work of art.

"Beat it!" I growled shoving a fist in his face on impulse.

"Cicero did not mean to displease..._The Listener,_" he spoke quite quickly. He scanned my heated glare for acceptance, but finding none he was left no other choice but to do as he was told.

_Listener, you make me doubt you,_ The Night Mother Spoke as the door clicked shut.

"And what reasons have I given you, Night Mother?" I asked, sadness crossing my heart. I had come to be quite fond of the Dark Brotherhood, despite its shortcomings.

_You gamble with The Mad One, keep him close even here._

I looked to the ground, "What can I say?"

_Do you wish to honor Sithis?_

"Can I not honor both?"

The Night Mother did not give an immediate response. I could see those smoldering eyes beyond the skeleton, though perhaps they wavered just once. _How do you intend to do such a thing?_

"When I kill, it is for Sithis. I am devoted to rebuilding the Dark Brotherhood. Under my influence it will flourish, and retain the morals of old. The tenents will not be forgotten, your voice will never go unheard. Could you ask more of me?"

It appeared we were at a stand still.

_What do you plan to do?_

"Excuse me?"

_What are the next steps you are going to take to return The Dark Brotherhood to its former glory?_ Her voice was suddenly clear and much different, and close. Turning, I found a spectral woman regarding me with something between mischief and annoyance.

I wiped the sweat from my palms as I prepared myself to enter the chambers that contained what I hoped to turn into the black hand. There was no way to walk away at this point, so I placed a firm hand on my stomach to calm the tremors. Straightening my shoulders, I built an electric charge in the palm of my hand and burst the doors open.

As chance would have it, the first two faces I alighted on were the most welcome and most dreaded. "Babette, Nazir, I'm pleased to see you chose to come," I greeted, putting on my best smile.

"Of course we would; I'ts not everyday that one is asked to be a member of The Black Hand," Nazir indulged, allowing a small laugh to escape his lips. He raised an almost empty glass of wine, already reaching for a nearly empty bottle.

"Thank you, Listener," Babette nodded, giggling along with her companion.

"Yes, Hello. Listener, I'm excited to hear what you have to say," Astrid purred from her place beside Arnbjorn.

"Thank you for that, Astrid," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze with cool steel. It did matter if neither of us was prepared for it; I was the new matron. And I was going to make sure everyone knew it.


End file.
